Ships In the Night
by Nikki1
Summary: AU Cataloging the life and events of Peter Petrelli as he interacts with family, friends and oddly familiar strangers.
1. Chapter 1

Well, here we are in AU land again. This one gets a little silly at points, but hey, I had fun. Please enjoy, thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through the YEAR (what the heck?!) that I've been writing this AU. It's insane, thanks so much guys. Like always, I recommend that you read the back stories, starting with 8th Grade History. I think you'd be a bit lost if you continue reading this story without knowledge of the others (but hey, give it a shot if you want). They're all on my profile and I also set up a community to keep track of this growing serial. Enjoy!

Summary: A disturbing visit from Mohinder forces Nathan into turmoil over the future of his family's safety as the government begins the encroachment upon advanced people's rights. Meanwhile, an interaction on the street leaves Peter with more than he expected.

* * *

It would be difficult to argue that there is any place more enchanting than New York City in the fall. Certainly, Asia offers an exotic and spiritually fulfilling atmosphere incomparable to any other area of the world. Europe tempts the curious traveler with centuries upon centuries of history to unravel. The western US is teeming with the adventures of yesteryear's rough riding cowboys from the Black Hills of South Dakota to Northern California and it's lingering air of frenzied expectation left by broken hearted sixty-niners.

Still, there is no place like New York for sightseeing, shopping, and an unending supply of hotdogs amidst an urban chic yet historically bountiful metropolis. Peter, the NY native, never wondered that the sprawling municipality attracted such a devoted mass of followers, especially during that interim period after the sweltering heat of summer had faded but before Jack Frost fully captured the city in his icy grasp. Unlike other fulltime New Yorkers, who would scoff at the naïve country bumpkins up for a day in the big city, Peter understood the allure of the fast paced city life. His lifetime spent as part of the inside crowd hadn't robbed him of the ability to see his hometown through the eyes of an entranced first time visitor marveling at Times Square and Central Park. He didn't roll his eyes at the crowd watching the employees at FAO Schwartz bang out chopsticks on the floor length keyboard or joke at the expense of the couples posing in front of the Empire State Building. In fact, he took every opportunity to play the foil of the jaded, brusque and generally unwelcoming denizen of the Big Apple. As often as possible he would offer his expert advice and direction to the confused looking neophyte with the fanny-pack and the camera around his neck. Generally the now grateful visitor would offer hearty thanks and continue on his way to the Museum of Natural History or Broadway, arguing children and harried wife in tow. One day, however, the grateful tourist left Peter with something entirely unexpected.

That day, Peter walked home from the Academy as he always did, walking most of the way in the company of his friend Gabriel before saying good bye a few blocks down from Nathan's office. The pair had just separated when Peter, waiting at an intersection, espied a sight which was indeed glorious to behold.

A blonde young woman about five or six years his senior; tall, leggy and buxom with full red lips and sparkling cornflower blue eyes. Peter, ever the hormonally driven Petrelli, sighed aloud as he watched the living vision of teenage fantasy straighten her low cut blouse, flip long sun catching hair over her delicate shoulder, bend all the way from the waist to…offer a cookie to an infant in a stroller. When the _mother_ stood upright she honored the man beside her, a dark skinned man with a shaved head who was desperately trying to make head or tails of a well worn map, with a brilliant smile obviously meant to offer encouragement.

'_Oh well_,' the 15 year old thought resignedly upon noticing the blonde woman's familial companions. '_Guess it wasn't meant to be. I wonder if she'll smile at me like that if I help them out…_' With this reward in mind, Peter crossed the short distance between himself and the couple, fingering the straps of his backpack nervously and hoping that his open smile conveyed a friendly greeting rather than the youthful appreciation for the feminine form that he so keenly felt.

"Excuse me," he walked up to the young family, attracting their attention. "Hi, sorry to intrude, but it looks like you could maybe use some help."

The frustrated father and husband sighed dejectedly. "Is it that obvious?" he drawled, crushing his abused map in exasperation.

Peter grinned impishly, saying, "Well, no offense, but…yeah. Don't worry, though. I can probably get you wherever you need to go. I'm Peter by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm DL," he put an arm around the blonde woman, pulling her to his side, "and this is my wife Nikki."

"Hi," Peter smiled crookedly at the object of his affection, a creeping blush tinting his ears a bright pink. '_Stay cool, Pete_,' he coached himself in vain.

"Hi Peter," she returned with a wide, pleasant smile, sneaking a knowing glance with her equally amused husband at Peter's fruitless efforts to appear dispassionate.

"So…" Peter rubbed at his arm, fully aware that the growing heat in his neck and cheeks very capably communicated his infatuation to the world, much to the unpalatable degradation of his adolescent pride.

"Oh, right," DL whipped out his handy map, pointing to an area that had clearly received a wealth of attention. He jabbed at the area, which had been so smudged, circled and pondered upon that it was quite difficult to read. "We're trying to get here but we just seem to be walking in circles for hours."

Peter bent over the map, trying not to focus on the fact that Nikki's full lips loomed a mere matter of inches from his own. "There?" he asked incredulously. "But you're practically there now. Just keep going straight for two blocks and that's it."

He received blank stares in response. "You've gotta be kidding me," DL finally managed to stutter, simultaneously sharing aggravated looks with his grimacing young wife.

"It's New York," Peter consoled, trying to lessen to impact of the devastating blow to the stranger's manly navigational prowess, "getting lost is part of the experience."

"Thanks all the same," Nikki expressed her appreciation with a well-received refulgent smile, resting a manicured hand on the boy's left bicep and inwardly rejoicing when a drop of sweat rolled down the teenager's smooth brow as a result. 'Wife and mother, but I've still got it.'

"That goes for both of us," DL extended his hand, offering Peter a hand shake which he only accepted absentmindedly, lost as he was in his newfound monomania. When an unseasonable warmth suddenly stole through his body he attributed it, naturally, to the close proximity of the svelte feminine form beside him without a second thought about the convivial handshake.

The group waved their farewells, repeating thanks and protestations against the unnecessary effusion of gratitude. In Peter's defense, he only lingered back to cast a discreet appreciative glance over Nikki's retreating hips for a second or two. Others would have done worse, to be sure; blame his raging hormones and her dangerously short skirt. Peter sighed as he watched DL twine a sinewy arm around the slim waist beside him, wondering why there weren't any girls like that in his school. He huffed; full of pubescent despair as he compared the plaid skirt clad Academy girls to the mature woman he had just met. "I can't wait for college," he moaned under his breath, leaning heavily against the pole behind him. At least…he meant to lean against the pole. It had been there, solid and made of unforgiving steel, just a second before. Then how, Peter marveled, did he find himself stumbling into the middle of the busy street? How was it possible that he seemed to have fallen through an object which, according to all properties of physics and rational though in general, should have held his weight with ease? If Peter was shocked by the improbability of the situation, then how to explain the state of the bus driver who, plowing down the street at a respectable speed, found his path instantly occupied by a staggering pedestrian. Neither driver nor soon-to-be Road Kill Peter had time to react or even think in the second before impact, but if Peter had been granted the luxury of a thought before experiencing heights of physical pain that he could never have imagined to be possible, it probably would have been along the lines of '_Nathan is gonna kill me_.'

* * *

A block away, completely oblivious to the danger in which his troublesome little brother was currently entangled, the recently appointed ADA was offering his longtime friend Mohinder Suresh a drink and a seat.

Mohinder declined the first but accepted the latter, though shifting anxiously as he did so, a tell tale indication to his perceptive friend that he was not visiting Nathan's office on a friendly pretext.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Nathan," Mohinder began with the bluntness only acceptable between those who have been friends from their early years. Though Mohinder was Indian by birth, his family soon after emigrated to the US at the behest of Suresh Sr.'s research, and as the son of the leading genetic expert in the country it was a matter of course that his path would often cross with the Petrellis. Having memories of powerful men during their formative, awkward, bed-wetting years makes it much easier to skip otherwise necessary pleasantries. "Is it possible that anyone is listening? Is the door locked?"

"Geeze, Mo," Nathan settled into his impressive leather chair, "What's with the cloak and dagger act?"

"I'm serious, Nathan." He leaned forward, accentuating the urgency of his words with his strained, rigid body language. "Is there any chance of us being overheard?"

"No," Nathan assured his friend, attempting to deny his growing anxiety that the man who was privy to personal and confidential Petrelli family information was so unequivocally distressed. Had he discovered a problem in Claire or Peter's recent abilities work up? "I told my secretary to hold all calls and visitors. The door is locked. Talk to me, man. What's going on?"

Mohinder sat with his elbows resting atop his knees, propping up his hands to cover his mouth. His eyes were leveled at the edge of the massive desk in front of him.

"Mohinder?"

"I don't really know how to say this," he admitted, pulling his hands away from his face to push them through his thick wavy hair.

"Take your time," Nathan said, leaning back into the plush comfort of his chair to watch the play of his friend's inner struggle.

"I had a visit yesterday from a government agent," he locked eyes with his lawyer friend. "He informed me that by the end of the week I need to be prepared to hand over to the government copies of all records regarding AP cases."

"What?" Nathan exploded, literally and figuratively, his previously sanguine mood soaring into the uppermost heights of dudgeon while he burst out of his chair, moving forward to lean across the desk and meet his friend's gaze more closely. "Don't you dare, Mohinder, you cannot do that! Dammit, why didn't you call me as soon as that guy showed up?"

"That's just it, Nathan," Mohinder also rose to his feet, pacing the space in front of the desk. "He can. They can. Things have changed."

"Stop moving!" Nathan growled, rubbing a trembling hand across his already furrowed brow. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You heard about the health care reform and regulation bill congress recently passed?" Mohinder asked, deciding that he did indeed need that offered drink and walked across the room to help himself.

"Of course I have, who hasn't?" Nathan responded dismissively as he perched on the corner of his desk.

His considerate friend handed Nathan a glass of his own, understanding when he downed the potent contents in one mouthful. He took his seat once more, glad to have his hands occupied. "The very clever authors of that bill included an extremely well hidden piggy back clause. Apparently," he paused to sip from his weeping glass, continuing with sarcasm resonant in his every syllable, "the government is highly concerned over the welfare of its advanced citizenry. They're worried that most AP's aren't receiving the specialized health care that they need and deserve, so, naturally, the government has taken it upon itself to review all AP medical records and determine who needs further 'attention'."

" 'Attention'." Nathan echoed, allowing his suddenly too heavy head to fall backwards onto his shoulders, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ceiling.

Mohinder nodded with a scowl. "That's the language they used, yes. Just vague enough to mean anything."

An uneasy silence reigned for several tense moments, the air thick and suffocating, oppressing the two men with the knowledge of their powerlessness. Unable to handle the pregnancy of the atmosphere for a second longer, Nathan hurled his fine crystal glass against the nearby wall, lending his own violent curses to the brilliantly strident clash of crystal meeting wood paneling. "How did I miss this?" he demanded, both of himself and of his startled friend. "How? Damn!" He paused to cast his gaze over the stunning view from his large window, hands planted at his hips. "Ever since Congressman Leeds stepped down last year no one in CAP knows what the hell is going on. He was the only man left in Washington who was openly sympathetic to us."

"You and I both know that isn't true," Mohinder scolded mildly. "There are plenty of good men in DC, they're just afraid to make a stand. The anti-abilities faction is growing so strong."

Nathan barked a sardonic laugh as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a newspaper. "Stuff like this doesn't do us much good either. Most of us spend our lives trying to convince the world that we're normal, just like everybody else. Then people like this guy come along." He thrust the week old paper into his friend's hands, taking his empty glass for a refill.

"Yeah, I heard about this," the doctor muttered. "Linderman."

"And his freak show circus act. On tour. Some people have no self respect."

"People will do anything for a buck," Mohinder muttered.

Nathan returned the freshened glass to his seated friend, shaking his head when the other man offered him the newspaper. "Keep it, I've got copies." Both once again seated, the two men eyed each other from across the desk.

"So…"

"So what do we do now?" Nathan asked.

"Well," Mohinder sighed contemplatively, raising his eyebrows as his eyes sharpened intelligently. "There's no use in trying to hide your family's files. Everyone knows that Petrelli means advanced. You're too high profile for your own good."

Nathan shrugged and nodded in agreement, but remained silent, urging Mohinder to continue.

"That being said, most of your abilities wouldn't warrant too much concern; flight, regeneration…not really tools for world domination." He cleared his throat loudly. "I think we both know who causes the most worry."

"Peter," Nathan returned blankly, swiveling his chair around to survey the bustling city below.

"Peter," Mohinder repeated. "He's exactly what they're looking for, Nathan. The latent danger threatening all we hold dear."

Nathan scoffed at the application of that title to his kind hearted sibling, "Please…"

"That's how they're going to see it Nathan," Mohinder replied defensively, "and you know it's true."

"Of course I do!" Nathan exclaimed with disgust. "He's a freakin' saint in a war machine wrapper." He stepped away from the window and picked up the recently developed family portrait that he kept on his desk. "He's certainly going to warrant a lot of 'attention'. And what am I supposed to do about it? He asked, an uncharacteristically defeated droop of his shoulders accenting the dullness of his eyes. He hesitated. "I know I can't ask you to falsify any of his files…"

Mohinder eyed his friend steadily. "That would be a serious breach of ethics, not to mention the law. You can't ask me to do that."

"I said I know that I can't," Nathan scowled, the last miniscule ember of hope warming his quickly chilling heart effectively smothered.

"I could face serious charges if someone was to find out…" Monhinder continued.

"I'm the lawyer here, remember?" Nathan interjected emphatically. "I know. Drop it."

"You can't ask that of me," Nathan tensed at the other man's continued harangue, clenching his fist tightly and reminding himself that punching Mohinder would be bad, "that's why I did it already, without your knowledge or permission."

Perhaps that tiny ember hadn't been extinguished altogether. Mohinder's words served as an effective bellows, coaxing an optimistic flame, small though it was, to reluctantly emerge. "What are you saying?" Nathan asked in his trademark slow, careful tone as he walked around his desk to grasp his friend by the shoulder.

Mohinder smiled, though the grin was restrained at best. "You know I've always thought of Pete as the younger brother I've always wanted. As long as it's in my power to do so, I'm going to protect him."

"You said it yourself, you can get into major trouble for this," Nathan cautioned, though secretly he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around the younger man in gratitude.

"Then lets both hope no one finds out, shall we?"

"Thank you, Mohinder," Nathan offered solemnly, fully aware that his words couldn't convey the depths of his appreciation for Suresh's selfless act and, unwilling to sully their friendly camaraderie with gratuitous peroration, he simply allowed his eyes to speak for him.

"All that aside, we're not in the clear. Not by a long shot. Now that they have their foot in the door, we can only imagine where this will lead," Mohinder warned unnecessarily.

Nathan crossed his arms, resting his head upon his chest, troubled by the unavoidable truth in his friend's statement. "Yeah. This is bad. We'll have to be more vigilant than ever before."

"What you need," Mohinder advanced toward his contemplative companion, a telling gleam in his eye, "is someone advanced actually inside the government."

"Don't start again…" Nathan was interrupted mid-sentence, and mid-argument as it was obvious that the pair was picking up an old, familiar quarrel.

"Mr. Petrelli," a nasal voice cracked over the intercom.

Nathan shared an irritated look with the other man before leaning into the speaker, "Ms. Delaney, I asked that I not be interrupted."

"Yes, sir," she returned anxiously, "but your brother is here…"

"Tell him to wait," he impatiently interjected.

"Mr. Petrelli," her voiced dropped to a whisper, "he's absolutely covered in blood."

Panic flashed across Nathan's face, though it only enjoyed a brief stay before he schooled his features back into the noncommittal equanimity expected of him. "Let him in," he bellowed into the speaker with false bravado. He muttered "What now?" at Mohinder, who responded with a shrug, before the door burst open to reveal not only a thoroughly blood soaked Peter but also an unknown couple with an infant.

"Peter," Nathan barked, his heart palpitating in his throat to an impossible beat. As he forced his protesting kid brother across the room so that he could inspect him in the brighter light by the window, he vaguely speculated why the knowledge that his brother would heal never lessened the anxiety of seeing him hurt. Would there ever come a time when he could view Peter's momentary wounds with the nonchalance that Peter could so easily manifest? Then he wondered, did he really want that?

He ran his eyes over his brother's form. No existing contusions, protrusions or abrasions, as expected. Clothes were ripped, torn and stained scarlet. Teenaged scowl was firmly in place. He was fine. Nathan was inexpressibly relieved; not only because his brother was unharmed, but also because Nathan now had license to be fully incensed without guilt. "What the hell, Peter?" The anger in the elder Petrelli's voice was belied by the crushing embrace he had forced upon the younger. Only allowing himself the briefest of moments to indulge in such sentimentality, Nathan soon held his brother at arm's length and demanded an explanation.

"Honestly, Nate, I dunno what happened."

"We saw it," the man who had accompanied Peter spoke up from across the room, a comforting arm wound tightly around his visible upset wife. "He helped us with some directions and we had just walked away when he fell off the sidewalk and into the street. He was hit by a bus," DL marveled, "he should be dead."

"It was horrible," the trembling woman murmured into her husband's side.

"I didn't fall off the side walk," Peter protested, casting a furtive glance at the beautiful woman. He continued, flush with mortification that Nikki would think him capable of so foolish an action, "I'm not an imbecile. I can walk."

"Then what did happen, Peter?" asked Mohinder, the peacemaker.

"Well," Peter rubbed his arm, a subconscious contemplative tic. "I went to lean against this pole. I know it was there," he swore with asseveration. "but it was like I…fell through it or something."

"Through it?" DL asked excitedly, taking a step toward the brothers. "Like phasing?"

"Phasing?" Peter and Nathan repeated simultaneously.

"We're AP's," DL drawled proudly, gesturing to his wife and himself. "That's what I do, I phase through things. Watch," he demonstrated by immersing his hand in the middle of Nathan's very solid desk as easily as if he was testing the temperature of his bath water. "Cool, huh? Maybe you're advanced too."

Peter laughed, thoroughly enchanted by DL's display and recognizing that he now boasted the fairly impressive ability. "Yeah, no kidding, maybe I am, huh Nate?" he joked.

Nathan and Mohinder looked sharply at each other, communicating without words the need to shut up Peter, especially when DL asked what he meant by "No kidding".

"He just meant that abilities run in our family, and he already has one," Nathan spoke up before his brother could divulge his now confidential ability. "He can heal. That's how he survived the accident."

"Well, yeah," Peter added, miffed at being spoken for by his often over bearing brother. "but…"

"Obviously," Nathan continued as if he hadn't heard his brother, "you miss stepped. It happens, Pete, nothing to be embarrassed about." He ruffled Peter's hair condescendingly, to the younger boy's extreme displeasure. "Just thank God you can heal."

"Nathan," Peter balked, horrified that not only did Nikki think that he fell off a five inch sidewalk, but now she was witness to the degradation of his being on the receiving end of Nathan's righteous big brother mode. He wished the bus had taken him out when it had the opportunity. Darn Claire and her regeneration.

"Say thank you to this nice couple for taking time to walk you up here," Nathan instructed.

Peter clenched his jaw, sending Nathan a murderous glare from under hooded lids.

"Say thank you," Nathan repeated, trying desperate to communicate his desire to be rid of the strangers. '_I'll explain everything when they're gone, just listen for once_.'

Whether Peter was tuned into his brother's mental wavelength or simply correctly interpreted the warning in his brother's expressively raised eyebrows, the younger boy turned from his brother with an almost inaudible long suffering groan. "Thank you," he said, sincerely grateful for their, albeit unnecessary, help and concern.

"Don't mention it," DL assured him, saying farewell with hearty pounding on the younger boy's back. "Glad you're not dead, kid."

Nikki bade adieu with a highly appreciated hug, though Peter could have done without her motherly admonishment to "Be more careful". As soon as the door shut behind Peter's new acquaintances he turned on his brother, demanding to know why he had been made a fool of in front of possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Despite the tension of the situation, Nathan still had it in him to laugh. "Oh, so is that why you were all hot and bothered?"

"Help me out here, Mohinder," Peter turned to their mutual friend. "Was the patting on the head really necessary?"

Mohinder held up his hands. "I'm not getting in the middle of this," he replied neutrally. "I'll let your brother explain his good reason for acting like a jerk. I have to get back to my work. You both take care, give the family my best."

"Well…?" Peter asked expectantly when the Petrelli brothers were left alone. Rather than answer, Nathan walked to a closet and rummaged for a few moments. "Nate?"

Nathan returned with a damp white cloth and a plain white undershirt. "Wipe off as much blood as you can and put this on. You can't go home like that."

"Fine," Peter assented, accepting the objects his brother hurled into his chest. He peeled off his crusted school uniform, depositing it on the floor before scrubbing his chest and face with the provided cloth. "So?" he asked, looking askance at his brother. "What are those good reasons Mohinder was talking about?"

Nathan watched his brother perform the necessary ablutions upon his miraculously unblemished skin, knowing full and well that he had once again come dangerously close to losing his brother. Instead of dwelling on the morbid situation, Nathan picked up the ruined shirt and tossed it into the trash can. "You're gonna have to be a lot more careful from now on, Peter."

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling the fresh shirt over his head. "Geeze, Nathan, I can't get hurt. It doesn't matter how careful I am."

"That's not what I'm talking about Pete," Nathan steered his brother into the seat in front of the desk. "You were going to tell those people about your ability, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Peter shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

Nathan paused, gathering his scattered thoughts. "Things aren't going so well for AP's right now, Pete. The government's stepping in where it doesn't belong, asking for information that it has no right having."

From the emergence of his ability, Peter had known that people considered his ability dangerous. He had been warned that there were people who didn't understand APs and who, furthermore, had no desire to understand APs. He knew that CAP was often at variance with the government. None of this bode well with the vibe of apprehension currently radiating from Nathan. "What does that mean?"

"They want to know who we are," Nathan replied honestly. "What we can do. In itself it's nothing terrible but it's certainly not a portent of good things to come. We have to guard ourselves Pete."

"Meaning I shouldn't tell people about my ability," Peter correctly inferred.

"Yeah, for the time being. It's for the best," Nathan moved behind his seated brother to grip his shoulders. "You get that, right?"

"Got it," Peter said, craning his neck to look at his brother. "But what about the long run? What are we gonna do?"

"You let me worry about that," Nathan said dismissively. "For now, we watch each other's backs and show the world that we're normal people, just a little special."

Peter squinted, quirking his face to the side. "Normal? Nate, I'm not normal. You're not normal. Is that so bad?"

Nathan dashed around the chair to perch atop the desk facing his brother. He placed his hands on both sides of his brother's neck, locking their gazes intently. "We are normal Peter. We're people, just like everyone else. Never, ever forget that."

The brothers sat in silence, though telepathy was unnecessary to recognize that thoughts were racing on both sides of the emptiness. How long can the bonds of love and familial affection unite two paths that are led by utterly contradictory philosophies? Neither brother could say, but they would continue to hold on to each other and pray against the arrival of the fateful day that held the potential to tear them apart.

* * *

Well, there ya go. Drop me a line, let me know what you thought, I love to hear your opinions. To put it simply: reviews make my day.

One more thing: thanks to you anonymous reviewers! I don't really get a chance to reply personally, but I appreciate them so much. :)


	2. chapter 2

::Groan:: Folks, writing this chapter was like pulling teeth…with dirty pliers rummaged out from the corner of a rat infested barn…no anesthetic …bad music playing in the background. I think I rewrote it about three times, and honestly, I have no idea why I struggled so much. ::shrugs:: oh well, please enjoy!

Summary: Nathan's bad day continues the unprecedented downward spiral as Claire has a run-in with a certain lightning bug and Peter makes interesting (and unwelcome) friendship choices. AU

* * *

Sitting around the dining table with his sweetly dimpled pregnant wife, unashamedly adoring younger brother and precocious goldilocks of a daughter, Nathan cast his eyes towards the heavens above…and wondered when he had unknowingly provoked the retribution of an ancient pagan god to have deserved the events of the past 24 hours. Or perhaps the old beggar woman he had been snubbing on the street for the past four months had finally executed her frequent and surprisingly eloquent threat to "rain curses from the darkest circles of hell upon his parsimonious soul".

What else could explain the unnatural phenomenon that was his abominably bad day? He had awoken to a hormonally charged, weepy wife and the accusation that he didn't love her anymore. At work he had been greeted with a painfully patronizing lecture followed, of course, by the unwelcome news from Mohinder and Peter's original take on the phrase 'catching a bus'. Rather than ending his day by sinking into the warmth and camaraderie expected at the family hearth, he had arrived to an empty, tomb-like house, devoid of all refreshing feminine hospitality. While the solitude did present the opportunity for Peter to dash up to his room and change out of his severely distressed clothing, Nathan was highly disappointed not to be greeted by the open arms of his burgeoning wife or the excited bounce of his devoted daughter. Unfortunately, there was an all too appropriate reason for their absence, as he quickly learned. His little princess, his cutie pie, his angel face had been suspended from school. For fighting. At ten years old.

_Breathe, Nathan. Breathe. _

Ignoring all compulsions towards diving headlong into his bed and disappearing until the day had expended it's outpouring of misery, Nathan poured himself a stiff drink, only pausing momentarily to covet the laggardly flow of the liquid between finely pellucid crystal borders. His father would have been proud of his staunch determination not to expose his extreme emotional turbulence. Instead, as his father would have done in a similar situation, he ushered his family to the table at precisely six o'clock. "Punctuality is order," Arthur's voice echoed through the halls, "and order begets power."

The foursome was silent throughout the first course, each Petrelli focused on his or her personal slights and tribulations. Claire was the first to speak out, her sense of injustice boiling up and beyond the limits of her infantile tolerance.

"It isn't fair," she shouted, slamming her small palm against the table top without enough force to even jostle the silverware.

"Claire…"her parents warned.

"It isn't!" she insisted, her blue eyes bright with unshed and very angry tears. "She started it but I'm the one in trouble. Is that fair?"

"Is that true?" Nathan turned to his uneasy wife, eager to believe that his little girl was merely being abused by an unjust system rather than have to deal with the repercussion of having fathered a mean spirited hell cat.

"It isn't as simple as all that," Heidi began carefully, smoothing her napkin over her disappearing lap. "That young girl is in the hospital right now. Claire has to face those consequences, no matter who started the fight."

Nathan eyed his wife, taking in the slight nostril flare that spoke of her determination, a trait only her husband could recognize. He turned to his daughter, her bottom lip trembling in outrage. "Tell me exactly what happened, Claire," he said in the even tone that Claire and Peter had secretly dubbed his lawyer voice.

She inhaled deeply, bolstered by an encouraging grin from her uncle. "It was that stupid Elle Bishop. I didn't do anything to her; I hadn't even said anything to her all day. I hadn't even seen her except for lunch time. That's the only time upper levels and lower levels are in the same place, but all of a sudden I'm walking out to meet mom after school and the dumb girl zaps me from behind!"

Nathan groaned and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Again? Man, how many times are we gonna have to deal with this girl? How old is she now, 13, 14? When the hell is she gonna grow up?"

"Nathan, please," Heidi gently chastised, "you know that Elle has certain…issues."

"Yeah," Claire spoke up, "she's crazy so she can use me for target practice. That's really nice."

"Sweetie, that's not what I meant."

"Or maybe it's not 'cause she's crazy, maybe it's because her dad's the richest guy in the world," Claire added, allowing upset tears to finally stream down her face. "I know I heal, but it really hurts. It really, really does. And I was so sick of it so I just- I just…when I saw the fountain I remembered what Mr. Smith said about water and electricity so I just…pushed her in." A solitary hiccup accented the end of her confession, endearing in her childish fit.

Heidi was solemn. Nathan felt conflicted. Peter laughed.

"Seriously?" he snickered, ignoring Heidi's slight scowl for the moment. "What happened?"

Claire grinned, tears forgotten. "She lit up like the fourth of July."

"That is not funny," a disgusted Heidi interrupted their howls, aiming a pointed look at the young people. "Stop it immediately. I'm ashamed at you both, laughing while a thirteen year old girl is in the hospital, possibly very seriously injured. Is that funny?"

The pair quickly sobered, shaking their head in the negative. "I didn't mean to hurt her that bad," Claire whined defensively. "I just wanted her to know what its like. She's never even apologized to me, did you know that? She's been mean to me for years and she…"

"That's enough," Nathan barked, irritated beyond expression with the pointless twittering over perceived wrongs that were really little more than a foolish school girl spat. "Claire, life isn't fair. Don't expect it to be. You can't stop Elle from being a little jerk but it's no excuse for your running around like a hooligan, getting into fights. You're a Petrelli. Act like it."

"Fine," Claire hissed, head held high, eyes daringly locked onto her father's. She stood and pushed her chair back with one quick movement. "May I please be excused? I'm not very hungry."

Even though the waves of hauteur radiating from his daughter were so intense that he almost felt compelled to wipe their residue from his eyes, he couldn't help but admire the girl's mettlesome nature. _'At least she listened to me_,' he smirked half heartedly as she stalked from the table. '_That was definitely a Petrelli-esque move. Get as angry as you like, but be polite about it.'_

The three remaining diners reverted to silence of the cold and stony variety.

Nathan sighed resignedly. "I should go talk to her, shouldn't I?"

"Yes," Heidi agreed, "in a few minutes you should go _apologize_ to your daughter. Just give her a little while to calm down. Remember, we women-folk crave understanding."

"What would I do without you?" Nathan gazed at his wife with admiring eyes, reaching out to gently cup the side of her neck and leaning in to graze his lips against the smooth coolness of her brow.

She giggled prettily at the unexpectedly romantic gesture. "Probably ruin every meaningful relationship you've ever had."

"All the more reason to keep you around," he whispered, raising his hand to return a stray hair to it's proper position behind her delicately turned ear, resting his hand along the side of her heart-shaped face once his task was completed.

Peter cleared his throat loudly. "This is getting a little awkward," he grinned cheekily from across the table as a bold flush stretched across Nathan's face to creep through that of his wife. He sagaciously interpreted Nathan's next dangerously barbed glare to call for his immediate dismissal. Recognizing that after the awful day his brother had endured the older sibling might very well respond to any further brotherly ribbing or gentle teasing with the projection of any accessible objects, such as flatware or steak knives, towards the general vicinity of Peter's head, nothing could have inveigled the young man to remain in his vulnerable position for a moment longer. He excused himself, reminding his guardians that he was expected at a friend's house to work on a school project, but just as he twisted his torso to extricate himself from the uncomfortably hard backed chair, Heidi called out to him in a voice laced with concern.

Her brow was set in a confused frown as she laid her napkin on the table and cautiously crept to where Peter stood frozen in suspended animation half out of his chair. Nathan couldn't understand what had so stricken his wife that she completely abandoned the romantic overtures of their conversation; then Peter turned to look at Heidi, exposing the lean line of his neck as he did so. There it was. A line of dry blood caressing his brother's developing jaw line.

'_Shit.'_

"What is this?" Heidi was asking when Nathan deserted his internal monologue. Before either fellow could respond with anything remotely intelligible she had soaked the corner of Peter's napkin in a half empty water glass and used the damp cloth to scrub at the stain marring Peter's olive skin.

"Oww, geeze…" Peter complained.

"Oh stop," was her pitiless reply. Her face paled as she pulled the cloth towards her for inspection. Nathan and Peter offered helpless glances to one another.

"We can explain," Nathan began calmly.

"Its blood," she acknowledge quietly. "What is going on?"

Now, the boy's hadn't necessarily gone so far as to fabricate some vague but thoroughly specious explanation for use in the event that Heidi became aware of Peter's earlier unpleasantness. They had simply agreed that, considering her delicate condition, the whole truth surrounding the situation might become a bit overwhelming. Nathan could have handled the situation with the unimpeachable grace and delicacy found only among talented liars. Peter, however, was a terrible liar; un-truths of all degrees were contrary to his character, even as a teenager. With the addition of Heidi hovering over him with her breathy concerned sighs and luminescent blue eyes, the kid never had a chance. He always had been a sucker for a pretty face.

He divulged it all in an outpouring of details, beginning with his good deed as NY's unofficial information kiosk and ending with his obviously un-thorough scrub down in Nathan's office, though no mention was made of looming government encroachment. "Guess I missed a spot," he joked with a shrug, a commendable but flat attempt at lightening the morose atmosphere.

Heidi wasn't appeased. "I don't understand. I thought Claude had shown you how to control the absorption of new abilities. How is it that you're still picking up abilities off of street corners?"

"It wasn't like I just walked by and took on his ability." He couldn't help feeling slightly offended by the woman's line of questioning. "When we were saying good bye he shook my hand and I remember feeling kinda funny, but I, um, didn't really think anything about it…at the time." Peter bashfully dropped his gaze to his fidgeting feet, unable to look at his sister-in-law as visions of Nikki danced tantalizingly before him.

"Even so," Heidi persevered, "You told us that physical contact wasn't a trigger anymore. This is serious, Peter. You know you were only allowed to start high school at the Academy under the condition that you absolutely control your ability."

"I know, and I can," he swore vehemently. "I've been going to the Academy for nearly two years and I haven't absorbed any abilities involuntarily…other than, well, today and that was only under special circumstances."

"What special circumstances?" Heidi continued to question, feeling for the first time the full weight of the responsibility of guardianship for the unusual boy.

Peter squirmed uncomfortably under her probing stare. "I was just, uh, distracted and I guess I wasn't really paying attention."

"What could possibly distract you to the point that you even slightly lost control?" The brother's instinctively met each other with identical knowing glances. Breaking away, Nathan crossed his arms and lowered his eyes to marvel at the intricate whorls in the hardwood floor. He let his brother stammer for long painful moments before stepping behind him to drop his hands heavily onto the smaller shoulders.

"The kind of distraction in a mini skirt and a plunging neckline," he revealed with a proud twinkle in his expressive hazel eyes. "He's a teenage boy, Heidi…"

"Ah geeze," Peter groaned, shrinking back into the seat and leaning his blushing face into his left hand.

Heidi was momentarily stunned, but quickly regained function as the humor of the situation began to dawn upon her. Poor Peter. Unwilling to join in Nathan's rumbling chuckle and add to Peter's obvious humiliation, she clucked her tongue and admonished her husband. "Honestly, Nathan, it's perfectly natural for a young man…"

Peter whimpered pathetically and hid his head between his knees, the temptation to disappear growing harder to deny with every awkward moment. Heidi threw her hands in the air, reconciled to not progressing the discussion any further with regards to 'distractions'. "Alright, I get it. Immediate cease fire on all discussion of 'special feelings'," another long-suffering moan from the shriveling boy, "but Peter, we need you to be more careful."

"Why?" Peter asked wearily. "First Nathan, now you. When are you guys gonna realize that, hey, I can heal. It doesn't matter."

This time Heidi was unable to prevent a peal of laughter from escaping. She tucked a finger beneath his stubbornly set chin, gently forcing his head up from its hiding place. "And when are you going to realize," she asked earnestly, "that you could be made of impenetrable steel and we'll still do everything in our power to prevent you from being hurt?" She pulled him into a sisterly hug. "I know you want to be the one to do the saving, in any way possible, but you have to understand that there are times when you have to let people take care of you too." She held the boy at a distance. "Okay?"

"Okay," Peter smiled crookedly, though the expression didn't quite make it to his guarded eyes.

"Good," Heidi sighed. "Now, I really need to soak in the tub for about two hours." She was almost to the door when she turned abruptly and asked, "Should we be expecting a call from the police department anytime soon?"

The two Petrellis shrugged. "I don't think so."

"I never gave anyone any information," Peter offered. "There weren't any authorities hanging around."

"No one tried to intervene or help at all?" Heidi, a small town girl from Maine, was often appalled by certain facets of big city life.

Peter cocked his head slightly, thinking back to the earlier events. "Well, there was a crowd around when I came to, but when a strange kid suddenly jumps up from a pool of blood not many people tend to run towards him. Kinda the opposite really."

She pursed her lips, a suppressed sigh vibrating in her throat. She turned with a curt not, calling over her shoulder, "Just…don't tell Angela. Dear Lord, she'd never let me forget it…" her voice trailed off as she made her way up to the sanctuary of her waiting tub.

The brother's eyed each other warily. Peter knew what to expect, but he was still taken off guard when Nathan's arm shot out and pulled the slighter figure into a playful but tight headlock. "Couldn't take a second to look in a damn mirror, could you?" The garbled string of sounds escaping the captured boy was something between laughter and protest.

"What'd you say?" Nathan laughed, releasing his hold enough that Peter could form actual coherent sentences.

"I said lemme go!" Peter demanded forcefully.

"Make me, little brother." Nathan had been engaging his kid brother in impromptu grappling sessions from the boy's earliest years, much to their mother's never ending chagrin, and while he was always considerably gentle enough, the Neanderthal lurking within his subconscious reveled in the knowledge that he could always overpower the smaller boy. He was, therefore, understandably astonished when instead of receiving a generous but easily withstand-able push at his side he was inexplicably thrown across the room to thud solidly against the far wall.

"Oww," he muttered darkly between curses, groping the back of his head as he sat crumpled at the juncture of floor and wall. A moment later his colorless brat of a sibling was kneeling beside him, calling his name apologetically.

"I dunno what happened, Nate. Oh man, are you okay? Should I call someone? I am so sorry."

His brother's incessant guilt driven yapping was doing nothing toward relieving the throbbing pain in his head and shoulders. "Do me a favor, Peter," he growled as the kid helped him to his feet.

"Sure, Nate, anything."

"Shut up for five seconds, will ya?"

"Sorry," he replied quietly, allowing his hand to linger at Nathan's elbow, lest the unstable man fall. A sharp glare from the wounded man drove the offending appendage away. Clearly not the time for a show of fraternal concern.

"What the hell was that, anyway?" Nathan asked as he walked toward the kitchen, hoping to find an icepack for his vibrating skull.

Peter trailed after him at a safe distance, fully aware that an irate Nathan was quick to lash out. "I really have no idea. That's never happened before, I swear."

Nathan pulled the thin sack out of a drawer and filled it with ice. He turned to face his wide-eyed younger brother as he applied the cold back to the tender area of his abused head, grimacing as the two made contact. "What's going on with all the new abilities Peter? Where did this one come from?"

Peter shook his head slowly, holding up his deceptively weedy hands. "I don't know anyone who can do something like that."

"Maybe Heidi was right," Nathan replied coolly, brushing past Peter with a sharp clip to his shoulder. "Maybe you can't handle the Academy."

"That isn't fair," Peter protested, following hot on his brother's heels. "You're just pissed because I'm stronger than you now."

"No," he hissed, the unhappy ghost of his wounded pride spinning maddeningly in the pit of his stomach, "I'm not."

"Yeah, right."

"I'll always be your big brother, and I'll always be able to take you, little man," he promised menacingly. "Excuse me for being concerned that my kid brother is picking up random abilities from God knows where. First that DL guy…"

Peter's hazel eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Nikki!"

"Geeze, Pete, you really do have a one track mind."

"No, no, I mean, remember what DL said? He said "_We're_ advanced" as in him and Nikki. What if she's super strong?"

"Huh," Nathan grunted. "That's a thought. Looks certainly can be deceiving. Do you remember feeling any strange sensations around…" Cue the significant smirks from both brothers. "You know what I mean."

"Well," Peter wrapped his right arm around his torso, drawing himself back into his memories. "I know that when I regained consciousness she was holding my hand. Do you think my body absorbed it while I was coming to?"

"It's plausible, you can ask Claude about it," the lawyer conceded, "but I guess we'll never know for sure."

"However it happened, you have to admit," Peter grinned widely, "It's pretty cool."

"Don't go around getting into fights all the time just because you're not a scrawny weakling anymore."

"I promise, not unless someone really deserves it."

"You, kid," Nathan took the smirking teen by the nape of his neck," are a pain in my ass."

"But you're still crazy about me."

Nathan rolled his eyes and not so gently pushed the younger boy away from him. "Didn't you have someplace to go?"

Peter jumped at the unexpected reminder, shouting "Oh crap, I'm late," as he rushed to collect his things.

"Where are you going, again?" Nathan asked as he fondly watched his energetic brother quickly wolf down one last bite of his forgotten dinner.

"To work on a project for class," Peter said thickly, refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

Nathan squinted suspiciously at his brother. "With who?"

Peter hesitated before evasively answering, "A friend."

"Which friend?" Nathan followed his equivocal brother, watching as he pulled on a well-worn hoodie.

Peter remained silent.

"Peter…"

The teenage sighed unenthusiastically, sliding the zipper to his chin. "Gabe, okay?"

"Man, Pete…" Nathan shook his head, regretting the action instantly as pain flared behind his eyes. "Why do you insist on hanging out with that kid?"

"Huh, I dunno, maybe because I'm his only friend. Everyone at school is too much like you to give him a chance when in reality he's a really cool guy."

"He's shifty and secretive. I can see it in his eyes, Peter, there's something about him that's off. I don't trust him around my way too gullible little brother."

Peter shrugged off the arm that Nathan had tried to snake around his shoulders. "What's the real reason you don't like him, Nathan?" He stonily glared directly into his brother's wary eyes. "What bothers you more? Is it that his dads a convicted serial killer or that his mom's our maid?"

"Come on, Pete," Nathan scoffed, hands holstered in his high priced suit pockets.

"God, you're such a snob Nathan," he laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm outta here."

Nathan caught his arm as he moved toward the door, an action far too reminiscent of their father for Peter's tastes. "He has the same ability as his father."

"I trust him, Nathan," Peter replied sincerely.

"I don't."

"Then trust me," Peter threw his arms around his older brother. "I know you guys care about me, but let me take care of myself."

Nathan had never before desired to have a more substantial power than flight, but as he watched his brother walking briskly down the sidewalk to meet with the son of a ruthless murderer, he would have given anything in the world for the ability to stop time; to prevent his brother from growing up and widening the yawning cavern between them. Life had been much simpler when Peter was five, when all that was necessary to protect him from the frightening things in life was to pick him up and hold him close.

Ever the realist, Nathan knew this was impossible. Peter would grow up and make his own decisions; good and bad; right and wrong, probably more good and right than bad and wrong, knowing Pete. One thing would never change, Nathan would be there to protect him whether he wanted him to or not and God help anyone who would get in his way.

* * *

Meh…let me know what you thought. Writing Claire was…ugh. I don't like Claire. Least favorite character. Darn her for being so closely related to my two favorite guys.

Anyone know the word for brother in Russian? Brat. No foolin'. I think its very apt.

Please review! This was a very rough chapter for me…::sob::…


	3. Chapter 3

Short, but I had fun writing it. Hope you guys have as much fun reading! Thanks, guys! Remember to review…

* * *

"Nathan!" Peter's voice echoed excitedly and strongly, no longer plagued by annoying pubescent cracking, as the high school senior entered his family's home. "Heidi! Claire!" he continued to shout while discarding his bulging messenger bag on a nearby side table. "You guys are never gonna believe what just happened!" He heard footsteps on the staircase and looked up expectantly, only to find spacey Mrs. Gray.

"Oh, Peter," she squeaked, struggling with a mound of laundry, "Everyone's outside, I think."

"Great, thanks Mrs. Gray." He began to turn but rethought the action, moving closer to lean a hand against the curving banister. "Can you tell Gabe to give me a call when he gets in from work? I have awesome news."

"Of course, Peter," she stuttered, "but I think you…"

"Thanks again, I owe you one," he interrupted, whirling away from the mousy woman and proceeding to bound down the hallway, so caught up in his excitement that he was completely deaf to the cautionary words hurled in his wake.

The elegant French doors leading to the gardens and posh outdoor seating area were thrown wide open, inviting the pungently aromatic scents of jasmine and rose to waft through the house, greeting Peter with what served nicely as a sweet congratulatory kiss on the occasion of his success as he crossed the threshold. Heidi's tinkling laughter met his ears before he had turned the corner to the terrace tea table.

Peter felt as though he was on a euphoric high. The beautiful dusky sky, the smell of the flowers, the sound of his loved one's laughter, all compounded the feverish joy resulting from his life changing secret. The words were leaping out of his mouth as he swaggered on to the familiar table. "You'll never believe what happened today…" The words died mid-leap when he finally reached his lounging family. The billowing waves of contentment that had been pleasantly stewing in his abdomen fell still, silent and flat. He was a kid whose bright red balloon had been caught in an updraft. In the bit of widely used colloquialism, "It's like taking candy from a baby," he was the baby.

His parents were home; His cold, harsh, demanding parents. _Sigh._

Their greeting was awkward on all sides, as is to be expected after years of separation relieved only by bi-monthly telephone calls, highlighted by uncomfortable hugs, forced kisses. Peter loved his parents, he truly did, but he hadn't missed them. In the beginning he had felt guiltily remiss over his apparent lack of filial affection and would try to coerce even the smallest pang of regret to sprout from his compassionate heart. It had disturbed the young man that he, who commiserated and empathized with all forms of life, could evoke emotion over the break in family relations.

"Peter," his father's voice boomed, startling him from his reverie, "still haven't out grown the day dreaming, I see."

Peter hunched over the table, casting a sideways glance at his sympathetic sister-in-law. "Guess not, dad."

"You're 18 years old Peter. Did you know that by the time your brother was your age…"

"He had a kid?" Peter interjected laconically, regretting his words as quickly as they had been said. Even with his eyes set on the linen table cloth he could feel the combination of heated glares from Nathan and Arthur threatening to burst the youngest Petrelli into flames. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, more to his brother than anyone else. "I didn't mean anything…I'm sorry."

"So Peter," Angela changed the subject in a brilliant display of sagacity, "we heard your amazing news. Congratulations, sweetheart."

"Yes, son, we're very proud of you," Arthur said in turn, though lingering traces of irritation tainted the kind words.

Peter's jaw dropped. His parents really did know everything. "H-How did you know?" he asked hesitantly.

"I told them, Pete," Nathan admitted after a sip from his glistening glass. "I know you wanted to be the one to share the news, but, well, I just couldn't wait for you to get back from CAP."

Peter was officially lost; 200 miles into the Sahara desert sans map or compass lost. "_You_ told them? How did you know?"

Nathan and Heidi exchanged a worried glance. "What are you talking about, Peter? I was there when you opened the letter."

"What letter? They just told me today," a wide-eyed Peter regarded his brother incredulously. "Did Parkman call you?"

"What letter?!" Nathan echoed, smothering the urge to reach across his wife and slap him brother into his senses. "Columbia, man! Your acceptance letter..."

"Ohh…Columbia," Peter said somberly, his eyes shifting nervously from his brother to his father. "Yeah, thanks, surprising, huh?"

"What news did you think we were talking about, Peter? Its obviously something that rivals Columbia, and while Columbia's prestige doesn't nearly match a school like Harvard," a nod to his older alumni son, "its certainly a marked occasion."

Peter hemmed and hawed, forcing his father to bark at him about browbeating and other such displays of weakness. Still trying to keep the family's first meeting in years as light as possible, Angela asked Peter if something special had happened at school.

"Not exactly," Peter said, occupying his twitchy fingers by toying with the matching salt and pepper shakers. "I just got some good news during my CAP hours today."

"Of course, your internship," Arthur drawled approvingly. "That's going well?"

"Very well," Peter nodded.

"Kaito still around?"

"No, he left before I started there, once Hiro graduated from the Academy last year."

"How is Hiro doing?" Angela asked politely. "He was always such a strange little boy."

Peter chuckled good-naturedly at his mother's observant words. "He's definitely different from most people, but he's a good friend. Taught me to bend time and space," he grinned, leaning playfully towards Heidi.

"I would've thought that becoming the master of time and space you could have at least managed to do a bit more homework," Arthur remarked snidely, disregarding Angela's attempt at a restraining look.

"Never said I was the master," Peter muttered under his breath, Heidi's chuckle the only sign that his tart remark was heard by any of his companions.

"The good news, Pete?" Nathan spurred his brother.

"Uhh," he swallowed hard, shifting his seat closer to the table. His head was angled to the side, leaving him to look out from under a cocked brow. "They offered me a job."

"Really?" Cue voices of disbelief.

"Yup."

"An actual paying job? You?"

"Yeah, Nathan, an actual paying job."

Arthur watched warily as his family fawned over his younger son. "I didn't think they offered jobs to college students. Policy has always been internships only."

Peter grimaced, scratching at the back of his head. "That's the thing, they don't."

"Well that's too bad," he said significantly. "You'll find another part-time job, something closer to campus."

The tension between father and son would have been more befitting in a cement cell, rather than surrounded by the subtle beauty of a well-kept garden. "Dad," Peter looked directly at the man across the table, "I'm taking the job." Nathan intercepted an anxious look from his mother. "I'm not going to Columbia. Or any other college."

All were quiet, absorbing the boy's astonishing news. Arthur coolly daubed at his mouth with the hand that wasn't powerfully gripping the armrest of his chair. "That isn't really your decision to make, Peter."

"Uh, yeah, I think it is," Peter argued.

"This is about your future, young man, and the future of this family. You _are_ going to college, and then you _are_ going to law school. End of discussion."

"Right, I can only benefit this family by being a lawyer?"

"This is what we do, Peter, it's who we are."

Peter groaned loudly at the tired logic, angrily pushing his chair out behind him. "Its not who I am, dad. I can fly, I can lift a car right over my head, I can stop time and move through walls! Do I sound like the type of person who should be spending my life in offices and court rooms?"

"Your ability is not who you are, Peter, its only what you can do, we have always taught you that."

"Maybe I want it to be who I am," he sighed, hands at his waist.

"And what would you be with CAP, Peter? Doing errands for the higher ups? Making coffee?"

"No," he paused, considering whether or not to divulge the next bit of information. "Claude wants me working with him in the GPS division."

"GPS?" Heidi asked with genuine interest.

"Global Protection Services," Nathan offered absentmindedly.

Arthur was unable to contain a mocking smile. "Peter wants to be a superhero. Are you going to wear a cape, Peter? Save kittens from trees?"

Unsurprised though thoroughly disgusted by the less than stellar reception of his wonderful opportunity, Peter shook his head and moved toward the house.

"Peter," Arthur called, his voice bringing his son to a reluctant stop. Only a few steps and the older man was nearly nose to nose with his rebellious son. "I have certain expectations for my sons. If you want to continue enjoying the many rewards of being a Petrelli then you are going to do exactly what I say."

"I don't need your money, dad," he replied steadily.

Nathan was suddenly pulling his brother pushing his brother toward the open doors. "Go to your room, Peter," he insisted. "Go. Now." He could feel their father's gaze boring into the back of his neck as Peter loudly stomped to his room. "Pop…"

"I trusted you with him," he growled, pushing past his older son. "Fix this, Nathan. Fix it."

* * *

Nathan opened his brother's bedroom door to find the younger man sprawled across his bed, weary hands covering his eyes. "So…" he began, plopping onto the bed beside Peter. "Thanks for that, really. Appreciate it."

"For once, Nate," a muffled voice reached his ears, "this actually has nothing to do with you."

"You have to go to college, Peter."

"Why?" Peter sat up to face his brother. "I hate school, you know that. You've been to enough parent/teacher conferences to know that I don't exactly excel in the classroom."

"Not from lack of ability, you just need to…"

"Apply myself, yeah, I've heard that one a couple of hundred times," he rolled his eyes, lurching to his feet and moving to lean his hip against the desk on the other side of the room. "It isn't for me, Nathan. I know what I want to do, I know what I can do, and I know that college…I just...its not for me."

Nathan remained seated, shaking his head at his brother's stubbornness. Sometimes Peter and his father were too much alike. "I don't like this Peter. Mom and dad, they just want what's best for you."

"Sure," he scoffed, "What's best for me."

"No matter what, you have to finish high school. And we're going to be trying to convince you to continue your education every second we get."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," Peter said with a small smile.

"Man," Nathan stood, walking to his brother and tousling his hair affectionately. "Where did I go wrong with you, huh? I knew I shoulda stopped you from hanging out with the Gray kid."

"Oh, you mean the guy who's going to MIT on a free ride? Terrible influence, him."

"Well it must've been you last girlfriend, then. The one with the dark hair. She was definitely some kind of bad seed."

"You mean Eden?" He grinned wolfishly, dwelling happily in memories of the wild young woman. "Huh. Yeah."

"You're too much, kiddo," he laughed at his brother's far away expression. He walked to the door, pausing to lean his weight against the frame. "I'm gonna do what I can to calm him down, but you know this isn't over, right?"

"Of course it isn't over, Nathan," he shrugged with resignation, trying to convince himself that the pain he so keenly felt over his father's constant disappointment was meaningless and fleeting, but never truly succeeding. "It's never going to be over. Nothing I could ever do would be good enough for him."

"Well, look on the bright side, Pete," he said dryly, "at least it won't come as a surprise."

* * *

Please, thoughts and opinions are always very welcome. I'm sure someone will say someting about Eden. Yeah, I meant the Eden from the series. I was watching season one while writing this he he he.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the long wait…this has been a weird story for me, it was kinda the hardest one for me to write ::shrugs:: Anyway, I'm pretty sure this is the last chapter, I think it's a fitting end to Ships in the Night. For a story that was meant to be a one-shot or a series of one-shots, it's certainly taken a life of its own he he he. Don't worry, I'll be back with another Heroes AU story soon, though maybe I should finish my Heroes/Gilmore Girls crossover first (having two stories going at the same time wasn't the brightest of ideas). Please enjoy!

Oh, and please excuse any typos, I'm uploading this in a rush 'cause if I don't do it now it won't happen for Lord knows how long!

* * *

Mohinder fiddled with the gift under his arm as he gazed out over the field of white chairs, searching through the crowd of suits, slick hair styles and well dressed women for any familiar faces. A half raised hand caught his attention and he followed the gesturing digits to a row close to the front of the raised platform.

"Glad you could make it," Nathan rumbled in welcome, standing to allow his friend to greet the other Petrellis seated along the row.

"Thanks for inviting me," Mohinder responded politely after accepting a dry peck on the cheek from the Petrelli matriarch and a strong handshake from Arthur. "I feel privileged to have made the cut. Heidi and the children?"

"Please, Peter wouldn't hear of graduating without you here. Everyone else is in the powder-room, where else? Monty's toilet training, the baby is dancing on Heidi's bladder and Claire had her hair done for the occasion so she feels compelled to check on her coif every few minutes."

"She's a thorough teenager now, isn't she?"

Mohinder laughed at his friend's exaggerated groan. "Hasn't she always been?"

The doctor looked away from the hard worn father to scan the crowd around them. "Will Claude be…" Nathan prevented him from completing the unwelcome comment with a significant glance punctuated by a loud clearing of his throat. 'Don't ask,' he wordlessly shared through the sharp thin line of his pursed lips. A surreptitious glance at the elder Petrellis explained the unexpected suppression. If he hadn't been aware of the tension surrounding Claude Raines in the Petrelli world he would have been concerned at the sudden painfully intense flush pervading every inch of Arthur's face, especially when paired with the engorged artery standing out the side of his tightly corded neck.

"We've still got a while before the ceremony, how abou t we go get some punch," Nathan suggested with a falsely sanguine tone, not waiting for his friend's assent before taking him by the elbow and steering him out of his seat. "Ma, pop, anything?"

"No, thank you Nathan," Angela frostily answered for herself and her unresponsive spouse.

Nathan whisked his friend away from the imposing cold front presented by the wounded pride of his father, waving away his friends apology for drawing attention to the ever present pink elephant.

"I take it issues remain unresolved between your brother and father?" Mohinder asked with the confidence of a family insider. The pair was momentarily separated as Nathan maneuvered around a group of over dressed brats taking up the majority of the aisle. Mohinder was unsure if the harried sigh his friend exhaled when the two were once again side by side was in reference to the annoying crowd or his question.

"They're both so damn stubborn," he muttered softly, hoping to keep their conversation from would-be eavesdroppers. "Resolve is not the problem. Peter is very much resolved to ignore anything pop has to say and do exactly what he wants, but that's nothing new. For his part, pop is resolved not to have anything to do with Peter if he doesn't go to school."

"And you stand where?" Mohinder asked sympathetically.

"I think they're both wrong," Nathan shook his head as they crossed the last few feet of grass between them and the well-stocked refreshment table. "It's impossible for those two to agree on anything. Pop's never known how to deal with Peter and Peter has this need to defy my father in every possible way. Peter's kind of a hopeless case, but he's not a total idiot; give him a year on his own in the real world and he'll realize that he needs a degree."

Mohinder frowned at his friend's confidant assumption. "Perhaps he would," he hesitated, ladling punch into a pompously detailed party glass while Nathan sorted through the offerings of tea cakes, pastries and impractically small sandwiches, "then again…"

Nathan's head snapped to attention as the subtle disbelief in the scientists' tone filtered through his perceptive mind. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing at all," Mohinder choked on the too sweet concoction, "it's just…maybe college really isn't the right venue for Peter's unique skill set."

"So says the geneticist," Nathan scoffed.

"Yes, school was in my path, as it was in yours and your fathers. Still, there are many successful people who never stepped foot inside a university. Who better than Peter should decide to which of the two groups he belongs?"

If the setting of their discussion had been more casual and less exposed Mohinder may have received a blunt trauma about his jaw in return for his seditious statement, but to the man's good fortune they were surrounded by exactly the class of people a vain and socially aware young man like Nathan most desired to impress. "I know what's best for my brother," he hissed, venting his indignation by repeatedly straightening his already perfectly neat tie. Mohinder, by no means a meek hearted push over, was well prepared to defend his point of view and the argument likely would have escalated if not for the interruption of a hand crashing down onto Nathan's shoulder.

"Nathan Petrelli," the balding and be-speckled man grinned, offering a limp hand to the younger man in greeting, "its been too long."

"Mr. Bishop," Nathan smiled politely in return, inwardly cringing at his misfortune in meeting the odious man, he released the sweating palm as quickly as possible, "what brings you here today?"

"Oh, Elle wanted to see her friends graduate, and since I am on the board of directors," he grinned widely, "I figured I would indulge her."

"Right," Nathan murmured uncomfortably, strained smile still firmly in place.

"She certainly will miss having Peter around school when he's gone," he continued, emphasizing Peter's name significantly. "She is so fond of the boy."

"Yes, well, she's a nice girl." The pair stared awkwardly at one another for a few long moments before the older man made his excuses and continued oiling his way through the crowd.

"Was that who I think it was?" Mohinder asked when Nathan turned back to face his forgotten friend.

"Yeah, if you thought it was Bob Bishop."

Mohinder whistled appreciatively. "Somehow I imaged one of the richest men in the world to seem less…"

"Slimy?" Nathan suggested drily. "Repulsive?"

"Something like that, yes," Mohinder chuckled. "He isn't advanced, is he?"

Nathan shook his head, "Not to my knowledge, but I've never cared to know too much about him. My father despises the man, though I think that's more of a new money/old money disparagement than anything else."

The general flow of the guests back to their seats alerted the friends that it was nearly time for the ceremony to begin. "What was he saying about Peter?" Mohinder wondered as they slowly fought through the crowd back to their seats. "Are Peter and his daughter…"

Nathan cut his friend off with a loud bark of laughter. "No, no they're not," he passed a weary hand over his eyes, "though not from lack of trying on Bishop's part. He's been trying to not so subtly encourage them towards each other for years. Like I said, even with his piles of cash, he isn't always accepted into the higher circles."

"Ah, so he wants to marry his way in," Mohinder clarified, not bothering to suppress an amused chuckle at the eccentricities of the insanely wealthy. He He continued, acknowledging Nathan's murmured confirmation. "Prosaic, but to each his own I suppose. So what's the problem? Peter doesn't like her?"

Nathan snorted unattractively at the preposterous suggestion. "Peter likes everyone. Elle just happens to be borderline psychotic. You remember when she used to shock Claire?"

"Oh…that girl? Dear me, I guess its true that money can't buy everything."

"True," Nathan laughed good-naturedly, slapping his friend on the shoulder as they both side stepped to a low a slow moving old woman through the quickly clearing aisle. "Very true. Besides, pop has made it very clear that she is…undesirable." He quirked an eyebrow at his discerning friend, making it clear that the elder Petrelli had far more virulent and vociferous comments regarding the subject. Nathan lowered his voice as the pair neared their row, "So, knowing my brother's track record when it comes to obedience, you can expect to be dancing at their wedding in a few years."

"Nathan," Mohinder pulled his friend back from entering the nearly fully occupied row. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said back there. I was out of line and it's not my place to say…"

"Don't even think about it, I know your advice comes from a good place," he smirked knowingly, "but I'm an older brother. It's my prerogative to get a little insane when it comes to my kid brother."

The pair filed into their open seats, Mohinder offering hushed greetings to the previously absent members of their party. The commencement proceedings were soon underway with all the patented dryness and empty symbolism of all its predecessors. The crowd feigned interest despite the oppressive heat, clapping politely for the key speaker though the general consensus was that he spoke far beyond his allotted 15 minutes, biting back laughter when the valedictorian stumbled on her own robe, pretending not to be relieved when the last name was (finally) called. The recent graduates swarmed into the already crowded area, receiving congratulations, flowers and balloons with all the bright eyed hope and enthusiasm of prisoners released from years of hard labor. Peter, relieved that his term of service had been officially fulfilled, rushed into his family's welcoming arms. Mohinder, being a considerate and polite young man, stepped away from the intimate scene. Feeling uncomfortable in being the only non-family member present, he began to walk away.

"Mohinder!" a voice called before the doctor had gone more than a few feet.

"Peter," Mohinder smiled when h e turned to see the excited boy forcing his way through the cramped walkway. "Congratulations, my young friend. Welcome to adulthood."

"Thanks," he laughed, waving to a friend who called to him from across the field. "I really appreciate you coming, man. And the gift. It means a lot."

"You're very welcome, Peter. I…" his encouraging speech was cut off when Angela called for her son to hurry.

Peter rolled his eyes, though his well-established grin never wavered. "Sorry man, I gotta go." The two shared a very masculine one armed hug before Peter turned to join his impatiently waiting family. A few steps away Peter turned to shout after his friend. "You're coming tonight, right?"

"I don't think…tonight?"

"Nathan was supposed to tell you. Graduation party at our place."

"Peter!" Nathan's forceful baritone interrupted. The graduate looked over his shoulder, nodding to his brother. He walked backward, still facing Mohinder, "Just come, okay. Seven o'clock."

"I'll try, but I don't want to impose."

"Impose?" Peter halted his back pedaling. "A bunch of my friends will be there, its no big deal."

Mohinder was about to tentatively accept the invitation when Nathan appeared at his brother's side. Gripping his brother's shoulder, Nathan hissed into his ear, "Seriously Pete, pop is ready to blow a gasket. Let's go."

"Nathan," Peter protested, "you forgot to tell Mohinder about tonight."

"Oh, right, sorry Mo. Anyway, you're welcome to come. Seven o'clock. We're keeping it casual, no big deal."

Mohinder smirked after his lawyer friend as he dragged his brother through the close crowd. Nathan could lay the blame for his brother's stubbornness on their father as much as he pleased, but Mohinder knew the pair too well to believe it. He walked off the field, musing on his interesting friends and looking forward to a free dinner.

* * *

As Nathan stood watching his newly matriculated younger brother laughingly interact with the guests of his low key graduation party he couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that Peter had grown so swiftly. Who was that lanky young man with the swaggering grin, flirting and talking and joking in a shockingly adult fashion? The shoulders were too broad, the echoing voice too deep to belong to Peter. Pete was a kid, scrawny and pouty; his head, topped by its always cleanly parted hair, was elbow high at best. Wasn't he? He had been last night, Nathan was sure. And yet, the melancholy elder brother rested his weight heavily against the doorframe at his side, there he stood, a man. Even while Nathan cursed the quick wings of unrelenting time for refusing to allow his pudgy baby brother reprieve from it's inevitabilities his insides ached with pride at the sight of the handsome, charismatic young man his brother was becoming. He looked down at the tasseled motor board in his hands, allowing himself a sad smile at the memory of his brother standing atop the raised dais, eagerly seeking out his brother's familiar face amidst the crowd of well-wishers.

"Nathan." He started at the sudden voice in his ear, rolling his eyes and forcing an aggravated exhalation through his nose at the unexpected sight of his little brother.

"Geeze, Peter, what do you think you're doing? Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, Nate," the boy chuckled nervously, "I thought you heard me walk in."

Nathan gingerly laid the ceremonial hat on a nearby table before turning to face his younger brother. "I was…thinking."

" 'bout what?"

"You," Nathan jabbed playfully at Peter's shoulder, smirking when the powerful young man tumbled backward. "Trying to figure out when you started growing up."

Peter shrugged, favoring his brother with an endearing stare. "I've been doing it all along Nate. Sometimes people, we just…see what we wanna see. But don't worry," he moved to his frowning brother's side, slinging a companionable arm around his shoulders, "I'll always need my big brother to boss me around, tell me what to do. Even though I can kick your ass," he ended with a fiendish grin.

"Get the hell outta here," Nathan shoved his laughing brother from his side, muttering at the unprovoked slight to his manhood. "Go back to your party."

"Come with me," his brother asked from a safe distance. "What are you doing lurking around back here? This is my party, Nathan, I want you there. Dad may have been called to an "emergency meeting", but you're here so c'mon, man."

Nathan grimaced at the unwelcome reminder of their father's selfish adherence to not "encouraging the boy's stupidity" by opting out of the celebration. "Pete," Nathan placed a hand against his brother's chest, preventing any further advance, "you know that pop not being here…"

"Save it, Nathan," Peter replied shortly but without the sharp bite of anger behind his words. "Mom already gave me the 'He really wanted to be here" spiel and I didn't buy it the first time. If he doesn't wanna be here, I don't want him here." It was one of the few times he had ever lied to his brother. "Forget it, lets go. Hiro's been asking about you." He firmly grasped his brother's upper arm, leading him from the stark room.

"Oh, goody," Nathan drawled wearily. Nakamura's son was a good kid, but exhaustingly excitable, especially when he could embroil Nathan, the misplaced object of his childhood hero worship, in any manner of conversation.

"Aww, c'mon, he likes you."

"Yeah and he thinks just because I can fly I want to hear everything about his Merry Marching Marvelous whatever and all his other crazy comic book nonsense."

Peter sneered at his brother's crotchety statement. "Do you realize how old you sound when you say stuff like that?"

Nathan sniffed and imperially smoothed his tie against his cotton clad chest. "Old and mature are not one in the same."

Peter continued to laugh at his brother's self-imposed propriety as the pair turned a corner, meeting, as they did so, a wandering Mohinder.

"Nathan," the anxious geneticist exclaimed as he espied the approaching brothers. "I've been looking everywhere for you. We have to talk."

Nathan groaned. The last time Suresh had begun a conversation with that phrase the news hadn't been good. Nathan promised to meet his brother outside as soon as he was done and once the kid had walked out of sight, eyeing the pair suspiciously until the last second, he ushered Mohinder into the room he had recently vacated. "So…" he prompted.

"I just had a very interesting conversation with Isaac Mendez," Suresh responded quietly, nervously pulling at his bottom lip.

"Who's Isaac Mendez?" Concise and direct, as always.

"A friend of Peter, I think he was two years ahead of him at the Academy, who also just happens to be one of my more interesting cases." He forced his plucking hand away from his abused lip, annoyed that he had allowed himself to fall into the habit that had plagued him from childhood. He took to pacing instead. "He's a precognitive artist, paints the future. He's quite unique and highly gifted in both respects."

Nathan strained in concentration, tenting his fingers as he filtered through his memories of Peter's many and varied friends. "Quiet kid? Scraggly hair, always looked kinda strung out?"

"That's an apt description," Mohinder confirmed sardonically, rotating his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate the tension spreading through his body. "He had some startling news. According to him a couple of government agents appeared at his doorstep yesterday demanding samples of his work."

"What?" Nathan felt his stomach churn unpleasantly, forcing himself from his position against the wall to storm across the room. Acid burned throughout his muscles, compelling him to move. Bile burned the back of his throat. He needed a drink. "They can't do that, he didn't give them anything did he?"

"What choice did he have, Nathan?" Mohinder cried defensively. "They had warrants, badges and the backing of the United States government. And what's more," he stalked over to the corner where Nathan had propped himself to hiss in Nathan's ear, "I've just had word from a colleague in the mid-west. One of his patients, a man with a volatile ability, had completely disappeared. For three years he had been going to this doctor's office for weekly abilities monitoring, never once missing a single appointment, and then…gone. No word, no warning, no explanation. The only clue to his whereabouts comes from a neighbor who saw two strangers in suits at his house the day before he went missing."

"Are you suggesting.."

"Yes, I am."

"Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"There is no before, Nathan, this is happening now. Why bother with registration when they can comb through medical records for their targets? The beauty of their underhandedness is that so few even notice what's happening. No outrages or public demonstrations." He took a deep, refreshing breath before meeting the older man directly in his eyes. "We can't wait any longer, Nathan. For the safety of your family, of these people, of this nation, we must act."

Nathan couldn't help but admire the passionate set of his friend's chin, his hands curled tightly at his sides. This man believed in him, in his strength, in his capability, in his leadership. He moved passed the stalwart figure to look out the window he had been utilizing earlier; so many people with no idea that their freedoms hung in such precarious danger of being lost forever. Strangers, acquaintances, friends, his family. How many AP's would have to become silent and un-mourned victims of a devious plot before the world awoke to the reality of their loss? Injustice anywhere is a danger to freedom everywhere. "You're right," he spoke without turning to look at his hopeful friend. "You've been right all along, though I couldn't be bothered to recognize it. We need someone on the inside." He turned, meeting Mohinder's growing and genuine smile with an even look. "I'll do it. I'll run for congress and do my damndest to get elected." He left his friend to gaze back out the window at his brother as Peter willingly enveloped their mother in a loving embrace. "I just pray it isn't too late."

* * *

I think that's a good place to stop. Started with Mohinder trying to convince Nathan to take action and here he accomplishes his goal. I like it. Thanks for reading, please review!


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